User blog:Squibstress/Come Autumn, Sae Pensive (1967) - Chapter 16
Title: Come Autumn, Sae Pensive (1967) Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; character death Published: 02/06/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Sixteen Albus must have dozed off still holding Minerva’s hand in his, because he was awakened by the feeling of her fingers moving. His eyes opened, and before he could adjust to the low light in the hospital room, he heard a rasping cough. “Minerva?” he said, thinking he must still be dreaming. He was answered by another cough, then a croaking sound. “Albus?” He shifted so that she could see his face just above hers. “I’m here, my love.” “What … where … oh!” she rasped, suddenly recalling where she was and why she was there. “Shall I get the Healer? Do you hurt?” he asked anxiously. “No, I’m just … dry throat,” she croaked. “I’ll get you some water. I’ll need to check with the Healer first, though,” he said, glad for the semi-darkness that hid his tears from her. He rose and was about to step out to find Pye when the man himself bustled into the room and over to the bed. “Mrs Dumbledore, hello,” he said. “Do you remember where you are?” “St Mungo’s,” she whispered. “Water?” “Certainly,” said Pye. He Summoned a glass from the counter and filled it with an Aguamenti. He conjured a straw and held it to her lips, saying, “Stay lying down for the moment. Take small sips, or you might get sick.” She stretched her neck and took a few sips then let her head fall back to the pillow. Pye silently handed the glass to Dumbledore. “How do you feel?” the young Healer enquired. “Tired,” she answered. “Belly hurts a bit.” “I’ll get you something for it,” said Pye. He looked at Dumbledore, hesitating, then said, “Mrs Dumbledore, we did a procedure. It was necessary. That may be why your abdomen is tender.” “Procedure?” Dumbledore stepped in. “Minerva, I …” He didn’t know how to finish and looked at Pye. The Healer continued: “We … that is, my colleagues and I, we had to remove your uterus. You were bleeding, and it was the only recourse.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a few moments, then said, “I see.” She was too tired to think about it now. Pye noticed her fatigue and said, “We can talk more about it when you’re more rested. I’m sure you’ll have questions for me.” “I’m sure. Thank you, Mr … ?” she asked. “Pye. I’m going to run some tests now if that’s all right.” She nodded. “You don’t need to move, Mrs Dumbledore.” He passed his wand over her torso, then cast the numbers in the air, reading them carefully. “Good. Much better,” he said. “I should also do a quick physical exam to make sure there’s no residual bleeding.” He moved to the foot of her bed, and asked, “Do you think you can move your legs up?” She slid them up the bed to allow Pye to make his exam. He lifted the bedclothes with a wandless spell and made a quick assessment of her blood loss and perineum. “Good,” he said, lowering the bedclothes. “Do you still have any soreness down here?” he asked. “Some. Not much,” she answered. “Fine,” said Pye. “The potion for your belly will also take care of that. Do you need to use the loo?” “No, I don’t think so,” she answered. “All right. When you feel you need to, just press this button”—he gestured to a small, green knob on the rail of the bed—” and one of the staff will come to assist you. I don’t want you getting up just yet.” He stopped to make a few notes in his chart, then said, “Try to rest as much as you can. Mr Dumbledore, you should rest too.” Albus just nodded curtly, and as Pye left, he called after him, “Mr Pye? Would you mind alerting Madam Pomfrey that Mrs Dumbledore is awake? I believe you can just call her via the Floo to the Hogwarts infirmary.” “Of course,” Pye said and left them alone. Albus leant down and kissed Minerva’s forehead, murmuring, “Oh, my love. I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.” She didn’t ask why; she didn’t have the strength to deal with his self-imposed guilt at the moment. She simply said, “Just sit with me.” “Of course.” After a few minutes, Pye returned and gave Minerva the pain potion. He checked her vital signs, then left again quietly. Albus watched Minerva’s face relax. He was afraid when she closed her eyes again—he had thought for a terrifying time that he might never see them open again—but he knew that she needed rest, and this gentle slumber seemed different than the deep, unreachable sleep that had consumed her earlier. Several minutes later, he heard the door open. Poppy put her hand on Albus’s shoulder and whispered, “Pye said Minerva woke.” “Yes,” said Albus. “Thank Merlin. She was alert, and we spoke. She’s just resting now.” “I’m so glad, Albus. So glad. Pye says she’s doing much, much better.” “Yes. Thanks to you and your gentleman friend,” replied Albus. “I cannot find the words to thank you properly.” “No need for thanks, Albus,” said Poppy. “I’m just glad she’s better.” They both stayed still, looking at Minerva’s sleeping form for a few moments. Poppy broke the silence, saying, “Would you like to take a break? I can sit with her.” “No, thank you. I want to be here when she wakes again,” said Albus. “Then do you mind if I stay for a bit?” asked Poppy. “I’d like to see her awake if that’s all right with you.” “Of course,” said Albus. “You’ll need to conjure your own chair, though, my dear. I’m afraid I’m too worn out even for that at the moment.” Poppy did so, and the two sat watching Minerva doze. They were interrupted a few minutes later by a harried-looking mediwitch, who bustled in, saying, “There’s a gentleman here who would like to see the patient. He says he’s her father.” Albus stood and told the woman, “I’ll talk to him first. Is he outside?” “He’s in the reception area, sir. Shall I bring him up?” she asked. “Yes, please,” said Albus. When she had gone, he told Poppy, “I wrote to Thorfinn. I think I should prepare him before he sees her, though.” “Yes, good idea,” said Poppy, nodding. “Let me know if you need me to help explain anything. Otherwise, I’ll just stay here.” Thorfinn McGonagall outpaced the young mediwitch as soon as he saw Albus standing in the corridor outside Minerva’s room. He strode up to the tall wizard and pulled him wordlessly into a tight embrace. “Albus,” he said when they broke. “How is she?” The man’s anguish was plainly visible on the weathered landscape of his face. “Better, Thorfinn. Much better, thank Merlin. She woke just a few minutes ago. She’s sleeping again, but the Healer says she’s going to recover.” Pye hadn’t said that, exactly, but Albus felt entitled to polish the truth a bit for Minerva’s father. “I’m sorry, Albus,” said Thorfinn. “About the baby.” Albus nodded. “Thank you. I am too.” The two men were quiet for a moment, then Albus said, “Before you see Minerva, there are a few things I should tell you.” “Yes?” said Thorfinn, his brow furrowing again. “The Healers had to do some … unorthodox things to save her life.” “Such as?” asked Thorfinn. He was as direct as his daughter. “They … I allowed them to remove her womb.” “I see,” was all Thorfinn said. It reminded Albus of Minerva’s stoical reaction. “Anything else?” “She received some of my blood. It was … she was … things were desperate,” Albus said, his voice hitching. “Your blood?” Thorfinn was obviously shocked this time. “Yes. It’s a Muggle technique. The potions were inadequate,” said Albus, willing the man to understand. When McGonagall didn’t say anything, he added, “She was dying, Thorfinn.” His voice broke and he sobbed. Thorfinn McGonagall said nothing but put a warm hand on Albus’s shoulder as the taller man tried to regain his composure. When Albus had regained control of himself, he pulled away from Thorfinn, saying, “I’m sorry.” “It’s all right, Albus. I’ve been in your shoes; I ken,” Thorfinn said softly. “I’d like to see my daughter now, if I may.” “Of course. She’s still sleeping, though,” said Albus as he opened the door to the room. Poppy looked up and stood as the two men entered. “Poppy,” whispered Albus, “This is Thorfinn McGonagall, Minerva’s father. Thorfinn, this is our school matron, Poppy Pomfrey.” McGonagall tore his eyes from his daughter to look at Poppy, who said quickly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr McGonagall. Of course, I wish it were under better circumstances. She’s doing much better, as I’m sure Albus has told you.” “Aye,” replied Thorfinn. “Can ye tell me, Madam Pomfrey, what happened to Minerva?” Poppy glanced at Albus, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “She had what is called a placental abruption,” said Poppy, and she explained in short what that meant. “It’s not so very rare, but the severity of what happened to Minerva is,” she finished. Albus added, “Madam Pomfrey was instrumental in saving Minerva’s life. The Healer in charge said that without her quick thinking, Minerva would almost certainly have died.” “Sounds like we both owe ye a debt of gratitude, Madam Pomfrey,” said Thorfinn thickly. “Not at all, Mr McGonagall. It’s my job. And Minerva is very dear to me.” “Aye, she’s written to me of what a good friend you’ve been to her,” said Thorfinn. If the light had been brighter, he would have seen Poppy flush. After a moment, she said, “It looks as if Minerva is well cared for. I’ll head back to Hogwarts and let you have some privacy. I’ll check back in tomorrow morning, if it’s all right, Albus.” “Of course, thank you, Poppy,” replied Albus. When she had gone, Thorfinn said, “Thanks for your letter, Albus. I was away from the house when it arrived, or I would have come sooner.” Dumbledore was privately glad for Thorfinn’s delay. It was much easier to face Minerva’s father now that the acute crisis had passed. “Thorfinn, I am sorry,” he said quietly. “Sorry?” “Yes. About all this.” “You’ve no call to be sorry, Albus. None.” “It’s my fault,” said Albus. “How?” asked Thorfinn sharply, reminding Albus yet again of Minerva. Then Thorfinn’s voice softened, and he continued: “Albus, I think I ken some of what you’re feeling. After Morrigan died, I felt for a time as if I had killed her. But it wasn’t rational—not that feelings are meant to be so. People fall in love and have babies, either intentionally or by accident. Been doing it for millennia, and women have been dying of it for just as long. It’s just the first risk we take when we create life. Life and death—they’re intimately connected, Albus. Ye know that as well as anyone. So does Minerva. Learned it far too young, she did, and for a time, I figured that was my fault, too. But it wasn’t; it’s just the way of things. But life goes on. Ye canna be afraid of it just because death is part of it. ’Tis the only sure thing about living.” Albus whispered, “But I was afraid, Thorfinn. I am still. I’ve never feared my own death—or at least, no more than any man—but Minerva … I can’t bear the thought of it. After what you told me of her mother’s death, I couldn’t help thinking that I’d put her in danger.” Thorfinn put his hand on the taller wizard’s shoulder. “You’ve been a good husband to her, Albus. But eventually, one of ye will die. My Galleons are on ye first, lad, since you’ve got a fair few years on her, but it could be either one of ye. My advice is to forget about it and enjoy life while it’s yours. Minerva will mend, and you’ll go on. Give her joy, Albus, and take some yourself. Ye have in the past, but if ye let fear and guilty feelings get hold of ye, you’ll lose the knack for it.” “Thank you, Thorfinn. I’ll try to remember,” said Albus. “Now, lad, go and get something to eat and have a rest. I’ll stay here with her. Go on, now,” said Thorfinn. Albus didn’t want to leave; he wanted to be there when Minerva woke again, but he thought Thorfinn might want some time alone with his daughter. It was the least he could do for the man, he thought. “All right. I’ll be back soon, though.” Thorfinn just nodded, then sat in the chair Albus had occupied for so many hours. Minerva stirred and woke about a half an hour later. She blinked several times, then asked, “Da?” “Yes, Minerva, it’s me,” he said, smiling and kissing her forehead. “When did you come?” “A little while ago. Albus owled me about what happened. I’m so sorry, Minerva,” he said. “I’m sorry too, Da,” she said softly, as tears came upon her again suddenly. She held on to her father’s shoulders and wept as he hadn’t seen her do since the day they had thought Albus killed in his duel with Gellert Grindelwald. When her shoulders stopped shaking, he conjured a tartan handkerchief for her. She dried her eyes and blew her nose, then asked, “Where’s Albus?” “I sent your handsome lad to get something to eat. I understand he’s been by your side since ye took ill,” he said. “How is he?” she asked, knowing her father would tell her the truth. “He’s hurting, lass. He’s blaming himself, of course. But I think he’ll be fine now he knows you’re going to be all right,” her father answered. “But how are ye, Minerva? Do ye need for anything?” “No, I’m all right, Da. Just so very tired. Would you mind getting me some water?” As Thorfinn was lifting the straw to her lips, Albus returned. “Hello, my angel,” he said, coming to stand just by Thorfinn’s chair. “How are you feeling?” “All right. I think I might need to call the attendant, though,” she answered. She pushed the button Pye had shown her, and in another minute, a green-robed mediwitch bustled in. “Yes, what did you need, dear?” said the middle-aged woman. “I need to use the loo,” said Minerva, “and my Healer said I’m not to get up.” She flushed and felt the tears sting her eyes again. She had never felt so helpless, but as much as she hated it, she knew she couldn’t stand on her own. She didn’t have pain when she was still, but movement still hurt her belly. “Certainly, dear,” said the mediwitch. “All right, gents, you heard the lady … out!” she said, shooing Albus and Thorfinn out the door. When they were alone, the witch asked, “Bladder or bowels?” “Bladder,” answered Minerva. The woman’s brisk efficiency soothed Minerva like a tonic, perhaps because it was a stance she recognised and could appreciate. The mediwitch Summoned a beaker from the cabinet and drew Minerva’s bedclothes down. “We measure everything that goes in and everything that comes out,” said the woman, indicating the beaker. “Gives us something to do,” she said, winking at Minerva. “Now, I’m just going to use a spell to empty your bladder. You should just feel a little warmth and maybe some tingling, all right?” Minerva nodded, and the mediwitch drew her wand, pointed at Minerva’s belly, and said, “Evacuate Vesicam.” Minerva felt her lower belly grow warm, then felt her bladder begin to relax. When she felt the warmth evaporate, the other woman gave a satisfied nod at the now-partially filled beaker and asked, “Better?” “Yes, thank you.” It hadn’t been nearly as humiliating as Minerva had feared. “Now, you’ve recently given birth,” said the mediwitch gently. She knew, of course, that her patient had lost her baby, and long experience had taught her not to say ‘had a baby’ in such circumstances. “The first time you move your bowels might be a touch painful, so I’m going to give you something to take just before, all right? To make things easier. Then when you feel the urge you just give me a ring, and I’ll be right in to help you.” Minerva flushed again, and the mediwitch said, “Ah, no need to be embarrassed, dear. I’ve given birth four times, and trust me when I tell you you’ll be glad of the potion and the company when the time comes.” She took a phial from her pocket and put it on the bedside table. “Just swallow the lot when you think you’re ready, and it’ll do the trick, all right?” Minerva nodded. “Good girl. By the way, my name’s Dorcas Diggle. I’m on duty all night.” “Thank you, Madam Diggle,” said Minerva. “Dorcas is just fine. And you’re welcome, dear,” the witch said and bustled out again. Albus and Thorfinn came back in, and all at once, Minerva wanted desperately to be alone. ~oOo~ Three days later, Minerva was up and about, although moving slowly and carefully. She was able to eat solid food and felt stronger. Although her father had gone home to Caithness, Albus was still with her most of every day, despite her urging him not to neglect his duty to the school. Poppy came to see her daily too, and she brought Pomona Sprout one afternoon. With her two friends, Minerva found herself laughing for the first time since her ordeal had begun, and although it ached her sore belly, she was glad to find she still could. The pleasure, however, was followed immediately by a sharp stab of pain that was not physical. How could she laugh when her baby, her child, could not and would never? Poppy and Pomona both noticed the abrupt change in Minerva’s countenance and responded in their own typical ways: Ravenclaw Poppy spoke soothing words, while Pomona’s Hufflepuffian comfort was a wordless pat on the hand followed by a gentle hug. Later, Minerva reflected on the fact that while she could not claim a large circle of friends—her natural reserve precluded it—she was fortunate to have such dear ones. Nevertheless, she felt cut off from them. If she had worried during her pregnancy that becoming a mother might create a gulf between herself and her childless friends, she now realised that it was nothing compared with the invisible wall of pain that now separated her from her friends and, indeed, from everyone else. Even Albus, who she knew was grieving the loss of their child in his own way, occupied a different kind of grief. He had loved their child, no doubt, but he had not carried it within him, attuning himself as she had to the baby’s daily habits—when he woke and slept; when he was restless; when he tickled her from the inside with his hiccoughs—learning to love them even before she had ever seen her baby’s face. Grief and loss, they were an island, Minerva found, and every day, every moment, she paced its perimeter, memorising its brutal landscape. ← Back to Chapter 15 On to Chapter 17→ Category:Chapters of Come Autumn, Sae Pensive (1967)